Once, she was a morning person,
arising before every dawn.
The morning light was a welcoming sight,
viewed with curtains expectantly drawn.
Cool morning air, and lovely bird songs
wafted through her open window sill.
The early hours were her favorite place,
before lupus made her so ill.
Now she rises much later each morn,
just seeking clarity of thought,
and wonders about her former zest,
and the fleeting dawns she sought.
She never watches the morning rise,
for she slumbers on at that hour,
Sleeping much deeper and longer in rest,
to build her strength and power.
She misses the morning’s cheerfulness
that once was her daily blithe joy,
and looks far deeper for meaning now,
for perspectives to wisely employ.
Understanding sun’s rays bear a transient glow,
she pursues after light from above,
Seeking a dawn that will not pass away,
and warmth from her Savior’s great love.
By Lupus Adventurer